


Litter - See Nash Write: The Best of the Shorts

by SeeNashWrite



Series: SeeNashWrite: The Best of the Shorts [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 19:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12991041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeNashWrite/pseuds/SeeNashWrite
Summary: For my 300th follower celebration at Tumblr this summer, I asked the Nashooligans for three words upon which to build anything from a drabble to a dissertation. The catch? Those three words had to make me cringe. Some really nailed it, some were unsure, and some just flat-out used things that make me *personally* cringe, but regardless, well… as they might say in Sparta, this was madness.This bit's words? Warm. Wet. Hairball.





	Litter - See Nash Write: The Best of the Shorts

**Author's Note:**

> When I say "Teen & Up" on this one, I'm not talking I-just-got-out-of-7th-grade. I'm talking you're a junior/senior in high school. It's not dirty enough to be "Mature", but it ain't without innuendo & talk that walks the line, okay? Okay.

It was summer, and underground bunkers don’t circulate air as well as one would think, though it is unclear why one would think this at  _all_ , but these are important facts to know, as Sam was practically sweating through his thin, form-fitting t-shirt whilst reviewing some old case notes, which is what he does for fun, making him somehow more attractive, despite the occasional sweat droplet dropleting off the tip of his nose and hitting the paper, flurping up the ink.

He shook his damp hair away from his face, executed with teenage-Bieber fan precision, and here is what his mind was chewing on:  

Dean had an interesting relationship with curses and spells and just attracting shit in general, but thinking back, Sam was amazed at the animal thread running through it all, and there all the evidence was, spread out in front of him on one of the heavy, solid, dense, rich-in-tone library tables, where he sat looking over his notes in pondernance, broodingliness, all those perfectly cromulent things one would be whilst looking hot,  _being_  hot, all hunched over a nice, long, sturdy, buffed-to-a-shine library table.

Dean had gotten way too involved with hellhounds on more than one occasion, then there was the dog thing, a situation - all things being equal - which Sam did not find all that upsetting, as he felt he owed the canine world a few, which will not be detailed too carefully neither here nor in his mind, because though Sam was  _good_ at many things, he was  _exceptional_ at forehead creasing and denial.

He stripped off more and more pieces of clothing as the hours ticked by, desperately trying to cool off, because he  _had_ to  _focus_.

This wasn’t about him.

Dean was turning into a big ol’, six-foot-and-change, paw-licking, furniture-scratching, litter-box-using -  _also_ not going to be detailed here, though kiddie pools and bulk litter buys at superstores are  _wonderful_  things, Sam learned - meowing, fur-growing, moments-from-tail-having pussy.

Cat.

So it was that whilst Dean was engaging in his new favorite pastime of trying to lick himself, interspersed with flicking litter all over the bathroom, Sam made the decision to contact a witch - a fact his witch-despising brother never had to know, as far as he was concerned - because there was no way he was going to be able to concentrate, not with all the sweating, and the heat, and how at this point, he was hanging out  ~~of~~  in his boxers, though he  _did_ throw on a little something when the witch arrived.

She was pretty hot, too, both in temperature  _and_ appearance.

Thank heavens for that firm, rock-hard, rigid, takes-a-lickin’-and-keeps-on- ~~dickin’~~  tickin’ library table, because it wasn’t long before Sam and the witch were doing research of a different sort upon it, and it wasn’t long after  _that_  before it was Sam’s turn to be on bottom (you heard me), and not that Dean’s back-arching and hissing from under the war room map table wouldn’t have tipped him off, but he knew for sure that Dean had been aware of his witchcrafty plans when he rolled onto what can only be described as the marinated-in-85-degree-room-temperature product of a six-foot-and-change angry cat’s hack.

_This post has been sponsored by wine. Wine: how Nash turns your prompts into something beyond the pale. Find boxes of wine in bulk at your local superstore, just two aisles down from the kitty litter, take a left at the kiddie pools._

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is fuel! Let me know if you enjoyed. -Nash
> 
> [PS: Time out - several of those words above aren’t real words. Please don’t use them in fics. Ever. No matter how much I’d love it in my bitchy black heart. Are you hearing me? Don’t think about that whole table thing - I need you to remember those aren’t words. Well. One of them is a made-up word that I didn’t make up, but I did use it incorrectly. Stop thinking about sweaty Sam and library table euphemisms. I can hear you - stop it, I said. Time in.]


End file.
